


Mighty Stranger

by Jaeger Gipsy Danger (Carleen)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: DRAGON AGE INQUISITOR, Dark Inquisitor, Dragon age slash, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Redemption, References to Depression, dragon age dorian, dragon age mages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-19 04:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carleen/pseuds/Jaeger%20Gipsy%20Danger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mystery at Skyhold. The Inquisitor can no longer rise from his bed and the spell of Springtime, which surrounded the keep is fading. And this is a writing experiment for me. Maybe you could let me know what you think.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. ...he remained

 

* * *

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger." ―Emily Brontë,  _Wuthering Heights_

* * *

**The Inquisitor**

An icy wind keens over the dark stones of Skyhold, howling its mournful song through the halls and corridors. By afternoon, a weak spring sun manages to melt the ice, shifting the stones until they creak in protest. With each passing day, the warmth and sunlight lose their grip on the gardens and paths. The castle walls shine with rimmed ice as the magic spell over Skyhold slips away and the ancient walls knell the sound of approaching death. Where once they fluttered and snapped the banners lay slack against their oak staffs. The guards and soldiers move quietly speaking in respectful tones. Weapons lay waiting in the undercroft next to the rusting and forgotten armor. Andraste's chapel overflows with prayers, and I'm told the sound of it is pitiful as it echoes against the ancient walls.

Does a man count the years of his life by decades? Or the months and days, which seem to pass in an instant? So quickly, in fact, that one turns and asks, what happened to the time we promised each other? What happened to those endless nights of passion when the specter of death finally moved on? Perhaps it's better counted by the emotions of hope, despair, happiness, and loss? Or as chapters in one of Varric's novels. I have no answers as I shift in my narrow bed to gain a better view of the courtyard. Several pairs of hands quickly reach to assist me. I wish they wouldn't, but it does little good to try to stop them. They speak in hushed tones and handle me with gentle reverence as if I were still The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, and their Lord.

Although I still reside in the castle fortress of Skyhold, those titles are meaningless now. We are at peace, and I lay here fading away from the world I helped save. There's nothing left for me here, and I often dream Andraste reaches for my hand again as she did so many months ago or has it been years? No, I reminded myself—my memories are not what they used to be—it wasn't Andraste, but Justinia. And I wasn't even their first choice for Inquisitor. Nothing more than a rash decision and a thoughtless reaction on my part embedded the Anchor in my hand. At that moment, standing in the stinking Fade I realized I was still nothing more than the youngest son of a minor noble house from the backwater of the Free Marches.

The pillows behind my back, placed by insistent human hands sit me up and now I can see the roses. Their scent drifts to me, and I inhale their sweet perfume. The garden is lifeless now; only the sturdy roses hang on as the temperature lowers a little more each day. Although my sight fades along with the withering garden and my hearing often rely on echoes of the words of others, the sense of smell is still strong within me.

Months ago, before the illness and my stupidity took my strength, my spacious quarters gazed out over the mountains. A room full of comfortable furniture, breathtaking views, and a man named Dorian. The beauty of his naked form and crooked smile still haunt that place. To escape the ghosts and heartbreak I moved to a quiet chamber where I can look out over the garden I helped to cultivate. The empty mountain pass below the stone balcony and the icy air remind me of what already there in the lonely void of my soul.

The words, his words, _I hope this ends soon,_  still echo off the mountains. The presence of his strong arms around my waist. The words and his breath on my neck represented the promise of a future. I loved him, and I'd never loved before. I slept with a man, naked and unafraid in his arms, our bodies entwined, breathless, and sated. I still feel his hands seeking out the places where he soothed a brow, calmed a troubled soul and took me to heights of passion I'd never known. And the things we had done! Wild, -- I still blush with the memories -- ardent sex. Where he encouraged me with teasing kisses, tender laughter, and proprietary hands. Until he'd finally gentled me and taught this virginal and pious man to fly.

I'd been pushed… No. Let's finally be honest, I was not pushed at all, but trapped by circumstances into the role of a savior and warrior I never imagined or sought. The mage's presence became my anchor and my solace for the long terrible days of fighting endless battles across an equally endless landscape. A once beautiful and peaceful land ripped apart by demons, blood, and violence.

I had done some good, hadn't I?

The sweat and chill of the fever took me down, and I let my head drop back to the pillows. The tops of the roses are all that's visible to me now, and they bow to me in the slight breeze to help me think of life and renewal. Although the healers no longer speak in such positive terms, at least I can watch for the change of season and listen to the bustle of life, of which I am no longer a part. The sounds of children playing represent a new generation growing up in a land of peace and prosperity. Peace, which will hold because the treaties we brokered were stable and fair.

How many marriages had I officiated since we defeated Corypheus? I've lost count, to be sure. Indeed, if I have any faculty left to me, and I haven't forgotten, it's only Cassandra and me who remain unattached. Cassandra because she is The Divine and me because I am dying. What had Dorian called me once? Oh yes, he said I was rather strapping. And I had been, once. Endless hours of sparring, days of walking, climbing and wielding a staff and sword shaped and fortified my resolve and physical strength.

Today, with my youth, and strength stripped from me, weakness drops me helpless to the bed again, and I turn my gaze to the familiar forms of the stone arches high above my head. When we first arrived at Skyhold, the fortress stood tumbled and neglected. Barely enough left of her to call a shelter. She stands proudly against the snow-covered Frostback Mountains, a beacon of learning, pilgrimage and peace. But the warmth and healing yellow light is fading now as if the magic of this place wanders away on the currents of the snow and wind.

Against the rimmed stone above my head, the dark-haired vision of Dorian unexpectedly appears, and he's smiling. Is that smile for me, my lost love? Do you remember me at all or are you so entrenched in the politics of your beloved Tevinter you no longer think of me? I've never forgotten your words, said in the midst of assuring me that leaving my side would bring you no pleasure, but to help his homeland  _he would do anything_.

In the blush of new love, I'd dismissed it. Even offered to go with him and he turned me down flat. I should have known then. But how was I to compare that to the afternoon he captured me outside my quarters and took me inside to whisper such beautiful things to me while bringing me to such intense pleasure I nearly wept. Later, after we washed and dressed, he'd looked at me fiercely and said,  _you're terribly dull, and I hate you._ Nearly overcome with the events of the day and our victories I turned away from him to escape to the balcony. "What's the second?" I asked him, my heart so full it fluttered in my throat. Then he took my waist possessively and tickled my ear with his breath, he murmured… _I hope this ends soon_.

We stood there quietly, watching the afternoon slip away and basking in the warm sun shining down on us. When I'd worked up my courage because you must understand I'd never said these words to anyone. I turned in his arms and let him push me against the stone railing. Against my neck he breathed, _Amatus_.

I couldn't breathe, my chest tightened, and my hands wouldn't obey. The look in his eyes! Vulnerable and yet trusting. Loving and yet wary. No, through time and fighting side by side we'd learned to trust and relax together. And this beautiful man loved me. Hadn't he just stated as much? This castle, my garish armor that did more to show off my physical attributes than protect me, and the charade of my role as the Inquisitor or Herald of Andraste. All that suddenly paled in the warmth and security of Dorian's embrace. He was still here, and he was real. I cupped his face with my hands and brushed my lips across the unusual presence of coarse stubble on his cheek. "I love you, Dorian." I met his dark wide-eyed stare. "I give my heart into your keeping."

His reaction, and I had no idea what it might be, was to curl his fists into the leather of my jacket and bury his face against me. Magic sparkled from his hands and covered me like a warm balm across my skin. My skin? My skin heated under his hands so that I squirmed to be free of their constraints of my clothes. The complicated knot of the sash at my waist came undone and for a moment floated until caught by the currents and set sail by the wind. The chest plate and the jacket landed at my feet with a clatter. My linen shirt responded to the force of his reaction by tearing until I was bare to the waist.

What followed taught me what it meant to love a man like Dorian Pavus. He opened our clothes and released us to the frosty breeze. Then he took us both in hand, spreading his long aristocratic fingers around us, stroking the tight skin and pulsing muscles until I shuddered helplessly against the stone balustrade. I didn't feel the cold only Dorian's hand and the heated magic as he stroked us to mindlessness. My knees weakened, and my breath panted against his cheek. After snaking an arm around my back, he sought my mouth and ground his mouth against my lips.

The slick feel of our flesh rubbing together created a friction that quickly overcame us both. He bit my lower lip and growled, his voice flooded with passion his eye blazing like a bonfire against a night sky.

Into my mouth he breathed, _I love you, I love you, I love you_ …

Then he lost control in a way I hadn't seen before. I think his words may have scared him. I believe it was fear I saw in his eyes as our bodies gave in to the demanding torture of the burning friction that ignited the passion growing since that first day we met in Redcliffe. We moved together, pushing, panting out this need of ours. Out of control, couldn't be sure my feet touched the ground. Holding myself upright with my hands fisted into the complicated leather buckles of his clothes. We fell together when the frisson of passion took the sight from our eyes and looped across our body's until they arched together to erupt into Dorian's hands and covered us both in our sweet sticky lust.

Tears dripped down my face soaking the pillow. I tried to hold onto the memories, the vision of him smiling at me. Then it faded, and he's still gone, still beyond my reach and perhaps he always was.

 _I wonder where this goes, you and I?_  

What happens after? Ah, yes, after. What happens after? Dreadful thing, after. Hot tears burn on my sunken cheeks. The flesh as cold as if I were already dead. As if he were my source of life and without him I began to fade. Regret tortures me and swirls in my weakened mind taking me back to Redcliffe where it all begun. A dark wind blows through the courtyard sweeping the dead leaves and petals into untidy piles as my garden dies. I shivered.

Memories of his lithe body swirl across my mind. To have only memories of him is unbearable, yet much worse if they left me. Dorian! I miss you! Watching him move across the room like a feline predator, or a dancer stepping gracefully, wielding his mage's staff as if it were a dance partner. His magic floating in the air, first as a miasma then came the smashing blow knocking the demons back into the Fade. I stood transfixed by the sight unable to move or react. We'd come to Redcliffe to meet a man named Felix. This man's name was not Felix; it couldn't be. Horrific events were afoot, but all I could focus on was the man. All I wanted to know was his name.

"Who are you?" I remember blurting after we closed the small Rift. The quiet grew between us as I watched him take my measure. He noticed the staff on my back. Yes, I am a mage as well. My thoughtless words lit a thread of heat, which branded my chest and neck. I hated my fair skin with its tendency to color at the slightest provocation. Always a torment to me, my Father hadn't helped when he said many times that real men never blushed. The question also ignited something inside me, a deep yearning to reach out toward this handsome, confident man. Behind me, the Iron Bull murmured a warning. I don't even remember what he said. I do remember how Dorian laughed at Bull's comment. And what a laugh, deep and rich. So intoxicating in its timber and tone I felt like laughing too. Then the beautiful stranger smiled into my eyes, "Dorian of House Pavus. Lately of Minrathous."

And so it began. Weeks of flirting and using any excuse to walk through the library to chat with him or seek his council. Would he be there, safe in his corner, pouring over the books as usual? If he wasn't, I felt let down like a disappointed child. Hardly fitting behavior for the Herald of Andraste.

We shared one kiss and a quick embrace. I wanted more and I think he did too, but the fighting and the endless meetings at the War Table kept us apart. I think it truly began our first night in the Hissing Wastes. Hot and humid, the stink of sulfur and the sweetish smell of rotting flesh permeated everything. We made camp that night in the center of a swamp, within sight of a looming broken-down castle. Why anyone would want to live out here was beyond any of our understanding.

As night drew in, the flickering lights and the thickening smell drove even the guards into the safety of their tents. When Bull and Varric disappeared into one tent to play cards, Dorian and I entered the other. I pitied the lone guard out there while I lit a lantern.

Behind me, I heard Dorian swear.

"Fasta vass!" He snapped, and I laughed wondering what his complaint-of-the-day might be. Until I turned and saw the muscular chest exposed by his attempt to remove his shirt. The incredible humidity made it nearly impossible for him to peel the leather away from his sticky, grimy skin. All he'd managed to do was bury his head and tangle his arms.

"Need some help?" I ventured. Trying to keep the laughter out of my voice. It was a comical sight.

His muffled voice, "A little help here. Yes?"

I couldn't resist teasing him. "This seems more than I can handle perhaps it would be wiser to call Bull in to assist you."

Magic flared from his body but did nothing to loosen the wet leather from his skin. He inhaled sharply, probably about to swear again. I went to him and placed my bare hands on his firm waist. The muscles clenched as he hissed in response.

My hands moved over his muscled frame over his ribs and chest. What if I rested my head there, right there on that hollow spot between his chest and shoulder. The ribs expanded as his breathing quickened. The buckles of his complicated shirt obeyed my fingers until I freed his arms.

The night sounds blanketed us while the glow of the lantern shaded skin into hues of golden honey. Would it taste as sweet? He stayed perfectly still as I lifted the shirt over his head. Then he grabbed it from my hands and tossed it into the corner. I swayed toward him, needing the connection, yearning for this strength. He caught my hands against his chest.

"Put your hands on me," he said his breath caressing my face in harsh pants letting me know he needed this connection as much as I. "Let me feel your magic."


	2. ...haunt me then

 

* * *

"...may you not rest as long as I am living. You said I killed you-haunt me then. The murdered do haunt their murderers. I believe-I know that ghosts have wandered the earth. Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad. Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you! Oh, God! It is unutterable! I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!" ―Emily Brontë,  _Wuthering Heights_

* * *

**Dorian**

Four days in the saddle without rest had taken its toll. My head hung as low as my tired horse. I couldn't stop. I had to get back to Skyhold. The urgency rose in my throat like bile and forced me to push my horse to the point exhaustion. She stumbled over a hidden tree root and I nearly fell off. After she righted herself I gave her a moment. The relentless icy rain pelted my shoulders and steam rose from her neck and shoulders would not allow us a break. Frosty breath blew from her nose as her ribs heaved under my legs and she trembled.

The storm had turned the world around us into a soaking, muddy nightmare from which there seemed no escape. I spurred my exhausted horse on and forced her over the edge of a steep track nearly invisible after two hours of rain. Whinnying in protest the mare made it down the first embankment. With the valley floor in sight, I put her at another path this one nearly verticle. Another day of hard riding would get me to the steep path leading to the gates of Skyhold.

 _Amatus, wait for me._ _Maker, don't let me be too late._

As if to mock my plea the sky opened over our heads and suddenly we were lost in blinding deluge. She shied in fear and whinnied again, throwing her head up and pulling at the bit. But there was little I could do to soothe her. We had to keep moving. Then a lightning bolt struck a tree very near to us and illuminated the area, but all I could see was the rain lite up like streaks of silver light.

The cracking boom nearly unseated me. It was too late and in any case there's nowhere to run. My poor horse took the brunt of the strike. She screamed once and went down. The mud dragged at her hooves as the dead weight began to slide on the muddy bank. After I heard the bone in her front leg snap she went down on her chest and I managed to roll safely away. But I could not rise to my feet. I stayed on the ground, my chest heaving, exhaustion blinding me to everything around me. Without a horse failure seemed certain now.

The dead mare at my side represented the third horse that died under me in my headlong rush back to Skyhold. Do not think me a heartless murderer of dumb beasts, but I must hurry if I'm… I cannot speak the words aloud. Because what you do not know is I've done far worse than kill three horses. Stumbling, with my hands trembling with fatigue, I finally rise and unpack the dead horse. Head down I began walking toward the dark shape of what I pray is a farmhouse.

Dogs meet me halfway and escort me to the cottage door. They leap and bark around my feet as we make our way across the field with my feet squelching in the mud each step slower than the last. What is it about dogs that they are so cheerful? Their carefree spirit lifted my heart enough to knock on the door, but they must have seen me coming and the door opened the width of a face. There in the opening I see the face of a man with a sword in his hand and a woman peeking over his shoulder They greet me warily through the small opening in the stout wooden door and stare at me. I must look a fright. Soaked to the skin the mud and debris on my clothes and hair. I hadn't shaved in days and my hands are skinned from the rocky ground when I stupidly tried to break my fall.

As I stand here trembling it occurs to me the Inquisition did as much for the attitude toward mages as saving the world.  _Perfect Dorian, arrogant as usual._ I know they see the staff on my back, and they haven't screamed in fear or run me through with the sword pointed so menacingly at me. Nor have they slammed the door in my face. Yet, anyway. Perhaps if I fainted gracefully on their porch?

The door opened wide and the sword lowered. They pulled me inside and the glow of the fire hurt my eyes. "Come in, man. You're soaked through. We saw the lightening strike your horse. You're lucky to be alive" The man set his sword down to help me sit by the fire. While they set about making me comfortable, I sat before the fire shivering and trying unsuccessfully to hold my fears at bay. A young boy pulled off my boots while the mother stripped off my coat and hat.

"Please don't make a fuss. I must keep moving. Thank you for a few moments of…" I try to say, but she interrupts me.

She plants herself before me, hands fisted on her wide hips. "You'll not be leaving this house without a full belly and a rest."

And that is, as they say, that, when she forced a steaming bowl of fragrant stew in my hands and a heel of bread on the table beside me. A tankard of mead poured by the master of the house appears next to the bread.  _Maker's breath are all women this bossy? No wonder Tevinter promotes male Devine, who could stomach this?_

While I eat she begins to wipe the mud from my face with gentle strokes and I feel bad for my impatient thoughts a moment ago. "Pay no attention to me, Mage. Eat your stew," she says. When she tips my head back to push my hair out of my eyes I see her reaction. Her mouth dropped open, she gasped and took a step away from me.

Uh oh, I warned myself and start to rise from the chair. This doesn't look good.

"Andraste preserve us! Tom! It's him. It's the Mage, the very one."

Now they're crowding around me peering into my face. One of them removed the empty bowl from my hands and took a piece of bread to sop the last of the gravy and handed it to me. I accept it gratefully, what would my own mother say at such poor table manners doesn't bear thinking about. I must get my thoughts in order and make a plan to continue on. Then she's back to business and I accept her ministrations as she begins to clean my scraped hands.

The husband watched me carefully, perhaps he fears I'll burn his house down at any moment. Then with a shy smile he said, "So you're the Altus Mage Dorian Pavus. The one who helped the Inquisitor save us all…"

The mother interrupted, "...they saved the whole world, Tom. Now here he is on our doorstep have starved and soaked through. You'll be letting us help you now, Sir Mage." She gestured to the boy. "Get him some of those fresh clothes we bought from the drummer last week."

As my vision clears and my strength returns I realize these people are not the starved fearful people we saw everywhere we travelled in search of Corypheus. The timber walls are well chinked with mud and chips. There was plenty of wood by the hearth, the stew was thick and full of meat and vegetables. Their clothes weren't threadbare. And they'd welcomed a mage into their home.

The world was healing.

"What is it, Sir Mage?" She peered into my face and wiped the tears gently from my face. "You're at a breakneck speed to get back to your Inquisitor?" she said with a knowing grin.

Oh, Maker, she winked at me. I hiccuped - most unbecoming - and she patted my hand. "He's ill and I need to get to him."

"Aye," she smiled at me and looked into my face, "And you will. My man and I will see that you get there, quick as a summer's day. But first you'll sleep, at least until morning." She guided me to a back room where another bucket of water stood with a linen cloth and a bar of soap. Prosperous, indeed. I noticed a second bucket by the bed and a flash of my mother's shocked face almost made me smile. The mother touched my cheek and wished me goodnight.

After cleaning myself as well as I could I laid down and watched the stars wheel across the night sky through the small window next to my narrow bed. One can never predict how life will change a person by wrapping itself around you, whether you ask for it or not. Pushing you into feelings you'd learned to keep hidden or never experienced at all. Tempted you to fall in love and gave you the chance to prove you could be more to someone that just a moment of pleasure. And now I stood on the edge of which was no longer under my control. There was no undoing what I had done. And if I didn't make it to Skyhold soon I would lose everything.

The moon appeared in my window at some point during the night. I don't know why the moon should bring thoughts of Garrett, but it did and I found myself wondering if he were also watching the moon slip past on her silent journey.

When had what I assumed to be a flirtation become the most important thing in my life? Dorian Pavus the Altus Mage allowed no one to control his actions or behavior. All those conversations in the shade of the apothecary's shop. He'd drawn me out of my arrogant self-righteous shell with his questions. Always, the questions. The angry Dorian found his pride again and the camaraderie of the good people of Haven and Skyhold filled my empty heart.

The Dorian who fought shoulder to shoulder with the courageous men and women of the Inquisition, brave people who wouldn't be allowed in the main hall of any home in Tevinter changed me in ways I couldn't imagine. They could have despised me and many had expressed their distrust at my presence. By the end of it I was proud to call them friends. The march back to Skyhold was almost bitter-sweet.

"Inquisitor...Garrett, I'm coming. Don't give in. Don't let the darkness take you," I turned my back to the window, sent him a prayer as if it were a spell I could wield and forced myself to sleep.

_Have you been to your quarters lately? I am not a nice man. Primal…_

_That kiss. The prelude to the afternoon filled with warm sunlight and genuine affection. Nothing is hidden. Had it ever been?_

_Arrogant of me to think I was in control. Pushed me away and buckle by buckle he undressed me. My right arm slowly bared, the leather falling away… his fingertips on my skin… my flesh prickling in response. Breathing into him, inhaling his scent. With clever fingers, he released the ties at my shoulder. While his right hand moved over my shoulder pulling at the leather his left flicked the silver buckle open. Suddenly, I'm bared to the waist and his mouth and hands begin to explore._

_I shivered, when he nipped at my neck and spread his hand over my nipple to squeeze the muscle beneath. "You managed that rather neatly, Garrett." My words caught his attention and his mouth moved lightly over mine._

" _Well," he said with a pretty blush. "Been thinking about exactly how this might come apart."_

_I'm gotten… You found me… Don't want to play hard to get… Don't stop touching me…_

_I grabbed his hips and bumped us together. He gasped into my mouth and I almost came, right there like a green boy. Grabbing his hands I pushed him back on the bed and quickly stripped him naked. And there he was beautiful, muscular, golden chest heaving, his needy cock arching over his stomach...waiting for me._

_Strong hands reached for me, but I ignored him. When I knelt between his knees he scrambled backward. I watched another flush spread over his fair skin. I followed him… you're not getting away so easily my dear Inquisitor. Then he confounded me again when I'm suddenly trapped in a web of his arms and legs. He finds my mouth by framing my head in his hands and kissing me._

_Different… sweeter… he's trapped between our bodies and I've slipped down between the cheeks of his ass...I'm locked against him... don't let it end._

_Speechless, I see_

_Where I come from..._

_This is more… Dorian._

"Garrett!"

The force of my shout pushed me out of bed. The sun is just now showing its face on the horizon and the weather is clear. I must go. They meet me at the door and she fusses over me. Slinging a bag of food over my shoulder and wishing me well.

"You'll go with my man and the boy. Take the horse. We're selling him tomorrow at a fair in Orlais. From there you'll find another way to the mountains."

"Mother," I say as she buttoned up my coat and expertly winding a scarf around my neck. I grabbed her hands. "You saved my life last night."

"No matter. You saved all of us, didn't you? Now go. Get to your Inquisitor. Your heart will not rest until you do."

Then that new and different Dorian bent down and hugged her with all the strength in his arms. She ophmed when I squeezed her and laughed against my shoulder.

"You'll not be wanting the likes of me," she said with a wink. "Although in my younger days you might have given me a second look. Now off with you, Lord Pavus and Andraste guide your steps."

We mounted the horses and took off through the blue morning light. I turned to look over my shoulder and she's waving at me. She'll never know that I'm a murderer and I'm grateful she didn't see the blood on my hands which I cannot wash away. It stains my hands and my heart.

No, I am not a nice man. Far from it.


	3. ...I must love him

 

* * *

"He is not to them what he is to me," I thought: "he is not of their kind. I believe he is of mine;—I am sure he is,—I feel akin to him,—I understand the language of his countenance and movements: though rank and wealth sever us widely, I have something in my brain and heart, in my blood and nerves, that assimilates me mentally to him. […] I must, then, repeat continually that we are for ever sundered:—and yet, while I breathe and think I must love him." ―Charlotte Brontë, _Jane Eyre_

* * *

**The Inquisitor**

The memories of Dorian and I on the balcony slip from my grasp as Skyhold's short day gives way to darkness. This is a bad time when night closes in and I'm alone with my dreams. The constant attention from my attendants finally ends, but they leave me with just a candle and anything else I might need just out of reach. My magic is gone, I can no longer do the simplest of trick of lighting a candle… a child's trick. They tuck me in as if I were the smallest of children, assuming there's nothing I'll need throughout the long night.

The moon shines in my window for about an hour, then she moves on. My single candle guts and I'm in darkness. It's then the walls close in and fear begins to build. The castle, the mountain and I seem to merge together during these dark times.

_Run. Run, for your lives people of Skyhold. It's no longer safe here!_

I force myself to remember the good times. Sitting in the garden with the others, discussing philosophy, religion and politics. Laughing together like old friends. Watching The Iron Bull scout his next conquest and his reaction when Crem beats him too the object of their desire and makes a point of strolling arm and arm through the garden directly passed us. No one dared laugh aloud. The glance Crem and Bull shared and the set of his jaw told the story.

Dorian and I playing chess in the garden. Talking the night away. Teaching each other new spells or trying out a new staff together. Fighting side by side combining our abilities to strengthen our magic. Nothing could stand against us when we fought as one. Just as nothing could come between us when we fell together on the scarlet cover of my great bed, arms and legs tangled together, the armor we lived in to survive scattered, forgotten on the stone floor. Then later with his head resting on my chest.

It's all gone now. Gone. The people, Bull and his Chargers, Cassandra, and Cullen have all moved on to new challenges and left me alone with my retainers, the pilgrims, and a castle empty of their good cheer and bravado.

I hold out as long as I can until the pain and the guilt strangle me into submission. There's only one way I can remove their filthy clawed fingers from my neck and it taunts me from its location under the mattress. Teases me into yielding, until finally choking and sobbing I reach for it. Under the star-filled blanket of night I swallow deeply. Before it takes me I hide it again safe between the feather ticking and the wooden slats.

Never again, is a vow I make every morning and each evening I break my promise. Pray for strength you say? Call on Andraste's guidance? Andraste. A story to frighten little children and provide the weak minded with a crutch for their fears. Dorian once said, to imagine a this chaotic world without a higher being was too frightening. After all we experienced you still need to believe in your mommy goddess? A good mother would keep us safe and hold back the flickering light of the night crawlers in the Hissing Wastes, seal the Fade and kill the demons. She never quite manages to keep that promise does she?

I have seen the world as it really is, inhaled the stink of a thousand rotting corpses and seen the terror in the eyes of soldiers. Heard their screams of surprise when they greet their own mortality surrounded by a color that does not exist in nature, the shimmering horror of green miasma and slithering monsters overtakes the world and your Andraste is, where? As for the Chantry, they shall sing themselves hoarse, until finally, they are mute. Why do they labor for a world which will never be instead of trying to fix the one they live in?

Answer me, damn you!

It is not Andraste who answers when I finally sleep, but memories. Terrible memories that swirl and tease in a myriad of faces and words. A normal night awakens me with tears on my face, choking back the terror or screaming from a raw throat. I emptied the bottle tonight. I didn't mean to. Perhaps tonight I'll sleep in peace… and wish I could pray for it.

_We travel to Redcliffe to meet a family retainer. Dorian looks so handsome in his new red armor, I can hardly take my eyes off him. I know he doesn't believe a word of the message. I see it in his eyes. Those great dark eyes filled with fear and pain. I'm sorry, Dorian. Then just as he predicted it's all a ruse and there stands his father standing silently inside the Inn._

_I watched the two men, so much alike and so filled with anger. Dorian seems simply hurt at what his father planned for his only son. Dorian, what kind of man could ever imagine putting a child through this torture. I watched him staring at his son and saw the violence, the rage, the desire to control. He thinks he hides these things under his veneer of civilized behavior. My first thought, I never wanted to cross the border of Tevinter, for what a horrific place it must be to spawn such a man as Dorian's father. The second is my fear for Dorian._

_Come away, Dorian! Come away!'_

_'He taught me to hate blood magic,' Dorian shouted at his father. 'The refuge of a weak mind. Then planned to use the ritual to change me! Selfish of me I suppose...not to want to spend my life screaming on the inside.'_

_Dorian is weeping openly now. Tears of blood drip down his cheeks soaking the cloth and blending themselves into the red silk of his doublet._

_Dark eyes brimming with malice the Magister noted each word I spoke to his son in the empty tavern. His gaze struck at me like hammer blows. Was he using some magic on me? I didn't allow it to show, of course, this was Dorian's moment. Lord Halward, I am the Inquisitor and you cannot hurt me. I will show you a modicum of respect, but you are evil and I know it because I see evil_ everyday _and I know it exists in this world._

_'Once, I had a son who trusted me. A trust I betrayed.'_

_I saw my hand on the corded muscles of Dorian's his arm. He's lying. Can't you see it? Come away, Dorian! I do my best to help this man because he is not only the man I_ love, _but the safe place for me to rest and an ear when I'm too exhausted to think straight. He laughs and jokes, where I am serious and often humorless. He is irreverent, where I only know the structured life of the Chantry. But he teaches me and I learn from him._

_Then Dorian paused and I tried again, Don't leave it like this, Dorian. You'll never forgive yourself, I say. To give them time I move away and leave behind a dark fear that screams at me to stay. Don't leave him alone with that man! But I dismiss it. This is a family matter and none of my affair. I can only imagine how much it cost Dorian to tell me as much as he already has._

_Then it's over and whatever has been said, was said. The tension in the air slowly dissipates. Then Magister_ Pavus _extended his hand to me. I glanced at Dorian, but he isn't looking at me. He's leaning on his hands against a table as if the wood is the only thing holding him upright. I'll get him home to Skyhold and help put this behind him._

 _I accepted the Magister's hand, but when I tried, in spite of my misgivings, to shake his hand like_ a gentlemen _a sharp sting in my palm made me draw back in surprise. The movement deepened the cut, slashing a wound across my palm. When Halward released my hand blood dripped to the floor between us. His own hand is now covered in my blood. He apologized profusely and blamed the sharp edge of his ring. The blood-red stone of the_ Pavus _Family ring shimmered in the candlelight as he wiped his hand clean._

_Blood! So much blood. It boils around my feet rising over my boots. The thick red liquid stinks of death and dark places. Halward throws his head back and begins to laugh. I can see his teeth sharp like wolf's fangs._

_Stop laughing!_

_When I try to move away, he grabs me by the arms. 'He's my son! My son,' he shouts into my face, his breath stinking with clotted blood and death. His fingers sink into my the flesh of my arms like talons. 'You'll never take him away from me. You're nothing but_ peasant _. A sodomite. A misfit. My son is a prince and you led him astray. Great things await him in Tevinter. His fame as a member of the Inquisition grows with the telling.'_

_And it dawns on me that he is quite mad._

_We shall leave immediately, I decide and I open the door to signal the stable boy to bring our horses. As I turn back to gather the_ mage _, I see Dorian allowing his father to embrace him. When I tried to pull him away, Dorian shook me off and I watch in horror as they head to the exit arm in arm. They laugh together as the door closes and I'm left alone in an empty tavern._

_Dorian? Dorian, wait! Don't leave with him… don't you see what he is? It's time to leave. Please!_

"Dorian!" I cried out shouting myself awake. I reached for him, but the bed is empty, the sheets reek of sickness. The room is so dark even the stars have deserted me. The pain of the dream is so real it slams into my chest and knocks the breath from me. Vomit roils up my throat like fire in a gush of hot oil.

"Come back." My weeping goes unanswered as I try to rise from the bed. My efforts earn me a hard fall to the stone floor and I land heavily on my hands and knees. Vomit, hot and bitter pours out of me splashing to the floor. So weak, so lost, where is the man the man I once was? The man who fought the demons, the Fade, saved the world and loved a mage named Dorian.

The ceiling swung into view when I fell to my side, then rolled painfully onto my back. Helplessly groaning in pain, I begin to beg. Who are you talking to Garrett… poor pathetic, weak Garrett. It's much too late to remember your prayers. One more sip, just a sip. Please. The dreams are too real tonight. Too close.

The empty bottle shatters against the wall and I let myself go when the final emotion of despair deserts me. There's nothing left of me but a hollow husk stretched thin and dry, ready for any breeze to take at its whim.

It occurs to me, as I lay there on the stone floor, that tonight is a fine night for a death. It will be easier this way. Easier for everyone. Let them call me a coward or a hero, what does it mean to me? I inhale the familiar smells of Skyhold; The cooking fires, the stables, the fading garden. The dark stones seem to exhale with me. The pain, my constant companion ceases to gnaw at me, slowly dissipates and I feel myself floating. Even the craving is gone now. But I can't really float can I? I wonder if I could float out to the garden and die among my roses?

"Will you think of me now and again, Dorian?


	4. ...and I broke my heart with weeping

* * *

"Heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy." ― Emily Brontë, _Wuthering Heights_

* * *

**Dorian**

The friendly greetings and good cheer of the small Inn where we broke our fast together showed me another sign of the people's recovery from the wars. Although I was aware of it, the sound of contented people and the smell of well-cooked food did nothing to lift my spirits. The father and son had watched me carefully, but never questioned me and for that I was grateful. Our simple breakfast of pottage filled with a generous portion of vegetables and grains filled our bellies and gave me the strength to renew my journey. With rest and food, I was ready to move on, and I was nearly desperate to get moving again. But when I moved to pay our bill the father stopped me.

"My boy and I have a question for you. A favor to ask you." He turned to his son. "Go on then. It's your question, son."

A shock of anxiety coursed through my chest threatening the food I'd just eaten from staying put. But I dropped back to the bench and waited. Except for the fact that I'd been a child once, I understood very little about them. Should I encourage him or just listen? I tried a smile. Ah, that seemed to loosen his tongue.

"I-I wondered, sir. If you'd allow me to go with you to Skyhold?"

"Well…"

"I can ride, Sir Mage and take care of the horses. I'm almost thirteen. I'm strong and-and I'll help you, so you don't have to kill another horse."

"The boy talked of nothing else since you arrived at our doorstep. He wants to travel with you, to see a bit more of the world. He wants to help with the Inquisition. He has a good mind, this one and I want to give him the chance to make something of himself."

"What about your farm. You need his help." I blurted the question, the idea of me escorting a child through open country or anywhere for that matter absurd. Wasn't that how these country people did it? Large families to help with the labor.

"My woman and I plan to stop farming and turn to breeding horses. There're plenty of boys in the village looking for work. I'd have no lack of help."

I felt this was too much to ask, how else could I return the favor of saving my life and their generosity. All I could manage was a nod of my head. The boy's grin was infectious, and I smiled back.

While the boy and I waited in the yard, his father located another horse for me. An elegant Orlais mare, well suited for moving over the open ground. She was tall, yet proportioned with strength and almost as large as Cullen's destrier. When I paid the stablemaster, he handed me the reins, and I felt the mare's gaze as she looked me up and down.

"Oh, so you've heard about me?" I scratched between her ears and for my trouble she blew froth coated breath my direction.

It was as I packed the saddlebags the father shooed his son away to watch a juggler.

"Sir Mage? Another word, if I may?"

"Of course, you may," I offered a smile in place of my impatient words and offered him my hand. He took it and didn't let go.

"I heard stories… this morning at the Inn and here at the stable. It's probably just talk and hubris. You know how…"

My hands and feet tingled as if I could no longer touch the ground the reins slipped from my fingers. I leaned against the mare's dappled coat and bowed my head. I was too late, then. A gentle hand on my shoulder brought my head up. No, I couldn't look him in the eye.

"No, mage. Don't despair. There's no talk of your Inquisitor's death. Only the same story, given out that he is ill. It's Skyhold itself which seems dying. They describe the walls crumbling, so the sound of the falling stones echoes to the valley. The once golden slopes shrouded in black storm clouds and a merchant claimed it snows every day there. He said, 'it's as if the Frostbacks are taking the castle back into the mountain.'

"And the Inquisitor with it."

The hand squeezed my shoulder. "We heard you crying out in the night. You must do all you can—and you are—to right whatever wrong and save your man. I… we… me and my woman. We know what it's like to lose something precious. During the battle against Corypheus, we lost our daughter. Such a bright, quick thing she was."

I covered the hand on my shoulder with my own.

"She was out picking strawberries with one of the dogs, and suddenly a Rift opened right there in our field. We shouted, but once the monsters caught sight of her, she couldn't outrun them. She tried, my beautiful little girl tried. Even picked up a stick and attempted to defend herself. Brave as you, mage."

I shook my head and let it fall against the mare's muscled shoulder. "If I were brave I wouldn't have left him. I'd be there now."

"Aye, you would. But without knowing the cause of his illness. Now that you know, you can fix it."

"How can you know that?" My voice betrayed me. He couldn't know the whole truth. As he said, it was just stories...

"I only told you the story, so you'll be reminded that life goes on. No matter that you wish to end the grief, the sun comes up every morning and the seasons change no matter what's breaking your heart. Then he tugged me close and wrapped me in his arms like a father would a frightened child.

"It'll be okay, mage. You'll make it okay. Now, you best be off," he said and pushed me to arm's length. "I've already said goodbye to my boy with a promise from him to visit with the roads clear in the spring. Now then, the sun's rising so you'd better be off. Look, mage. Look to the east. The Frostbacks are within sight. Andraste guide your steps."

"You've done more for me than I know words to thank you."

He waved me off, "Take care of that mare. She's a good'un. Killing horses is a bad habit, Mage," he said with a parting grin. Then with a final wave he disappeared into the growing market crowd.

With my heart throbbing and threatening to close my throat, I mounted my horse. The boy, wrapped to his eyes in a scarf and coat, with a wool cap over his red hair, peered at me with wide blue eyes. I nodded to him, and he trotted up beside me and we headed down the road leading west to the Frostback Mountains and home.

The boy followed silently. His horse, a lively gelding, which he handled with ease. There was little traffic on the road and instead of the sound of people the landscape quieted. I didn't remembering hearing the birds when we trekked through here before. With my eyes on the distant mountains and we moved from the countryside of Orlais into the Hinterlands my anxiety began to grow. The mare sensing my unease began to prance and fret at the bit.

How many times had we walked through this land, closing Rifts and fighting bandits. Although we may have put the brutes out of action for a while, I had no illusions about the bears. We headed west, but not before I got a yes from the boy that he could handle a weapon. We should stay on the Imperial Highway. It would save us a day and a night of travel if we cut through the Heartlands north of Lake Celestine and pick up the Imperial Highway again.

Hours went by, I think I ate something. Once. The boy watered the horses and let them graze. Truly, I could not describe the trip to you. I listened for threats from the forest and kept my eyes on the mountains. Days later, after we arrived, I overheard the boy, whose name I now knew was William talk about the fine weather and how disappointed he was we didn't get to fight any bears or wolves.

Then as dawn rose behind us casting horizontal shadows across the open land, we crossed from scrublands into the alpine meadow that led to the first hills of the mountains. Behind me, the boy cantered up, his horse prancing and snorting,

"We could have a fine gallop across the meadow, Sir Mage."

A touch of my heels to the mare's ribs and we were off.

_I'm almost there. Don't despair of me, Garrett. Am I prepared to help you? And when we finally arrive what will I find. A grave to weep over or a final kiss as you die in my arms?_

Anxiety is replaced by fear as the weather darkens with each length of the horse's stride.

There were no prayers left in me by the time I signaled the boy to stay back while I led us up a narrow trail cut into the mountains. We slowed our pace and let the horses pick their way up the rocky path. Very quickly, the horse's were struggling through deep snow. An ice fog floated over us obscuring the trail. I'd been this way a hundred times, but never in weather like this. Even if I could see a light or banner heralding the direction of Skyhold, I could not follow it. We could never be sure if we were walking off a cliff. No, I swallowed my fears and gave my horse her head. Trust the horses to find the way. What else could we do?. My magical abilities did not extend to controlling the weather and perhaps not even to saving Garrett. I pulled up my collar and began a long conversation with Andraste.

Time stood still for the boy and I. We knew only peaks covered with snow kept aloft by the wind and a trail floor hidden beneath ice fog. The force of the howling wind prevented us from speaking to each other. I could see my horse's ears and not much else. If she took me to Garrett's side, I promised I would make her a bed of fresh knee-deep straw, a bucket of grain and a flake of fragrant hay. If... if... if… The snow, the waiting, the endless miles, the knowledge of my deeds weighed so heavily on me I could hardly draw a breath.

"Sir, Mage! There it is! There's Skyhold. Look, Mage! Look!"

My mare pricked up her ears and in just a few steps I heard the clatter of her hooves on the bridge. I wanted to run. Move you bloody nag! Move!

Just as the man said, the castle lay shrouded in a gray blanket of thick fog. Once we entered into the gray mist, the smell of dead things thickened the air. The Fade hadn't felt this bad. This Hissing Wastes were a bouquet of spring flowers compared to this fetor. When I heard the boy vomiting, I pulled my horse back to wait for him. Cupping my hand around his woolen scarf, I have no idea how far down his cheek lay; he smiled bleakly, and we moved forward.

"Who goes there!" Came the usual challenge from the tower guards.

"Oy! It's Dorian Pavus!"

Then with a great deal of shouting and the pounding of booted feet, I heard. "It's himself! It's the Mage. Open the gates!"

The gates obediently swung open, and the portcullis rose slowly on protesting frozen chains to let us in. A guard met me and held my horse while I jumped down almost losing my feet after being in the saddle for so many hours.

"See to the boy. He's freezing and hungry." I shouted as I ran across the yard toward Garrett's quarters.

They were yelling something, shouting my name. I waived, yes it's good to be home. Cullen stepped into the yard and tried to stop me. I didn't even slow down. And there was Bull, I was surprised to see anyone left here of the old team. He held out his hand, but I dodged around him. Honestly, I'm a mage, and you don't think you can stop me, do you?

The merchant was mistaken, then. A few were still here. Unless, they'd come to pay respects… at a funeral. The first step caught my boot, and I went down hard on the stones. Hard enough for the small bottle I'd carried in my breast pocket to strike the stones, sliding a few feet on the ice. All these miles and I'd stupidly almost broken the bottle just yards from Garrett. I cursed my stupidity and forced myself up the stairs taking them two at a time.

A few more stairs and I see the long mullioned windows closed to the weather. That's good, the chill of this storm, or whatever it was couldn't be good for his recovery.

I'm at the top of the stairs! The orderly desk, no, it's bare of the usual papers, quill and ink pot, the cold and empty fireplace. The red coverlet and the empty bed. I smell the dust. Every surface covered with a fine powder of neglect.

It's true then. That's why they tried to stop me. The Inquisitor, my fair and beautiful mage, my Garrett. Gone.

I'd failed.

I sank to the floor and buried my face in my hands. "Maker, I beg you take me, now."


	5. ...may you never feel what I then felt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Talk of suicide

 

* * *

"...may you never feel what I then felt! May your eyes never shed such stormy, scalding, heart-wrung tears as poured from mine. May you never appeal to Heaven in prayers so hopeless and so agised as in that hour left my lips: for never may you, like me, dread to be the instrument of evil to what you wholly love." ― Charlotte Brontë, _Jane Eyre_

* * *

 

**The Inquisitor**

Dearest reader I feel obligated to warn you that praying for death doesn't work. An annoying discovery I made when I woke up shivering on the floor. My disobedient eyes opened, my heart still thumped its presence in my chest, and even my stomach growled. Very annoying. I couldn't tell the hour, but when I awoke still staring at the ceiling, the craving flared, and the pain flowed like boiling oil through my veins. The pain didn't claw at me as insistently as before, though. Making me wonder if a night without it had done me some good. I'm certainly happy to know I must have slept through the worst of the withdrawal.

Rolling onto my side I glanced around the room to find myself quite alone. Once on my knees the sounds of activity came to my ears. What was going on? Running feet, doors slamming and shouting, as well. A visitor? My old rooms are two floors above me, and oddly enough I hear the sound of running feet and a the dull thud of a heavy slammed open. Then, silence.

Without a bell or way to call for my retainers, I must go to them. That feeling or compulsion is so strong I cannot, no matter my physical weakness, ignore it. Without a robe or slippers, my hands and knees dirty from the floor, and I imagine my back is the same. I'll appear like a disheveled apparition in my soiled linen gown. Now, why hadn't I thought of that before? I'll be the Ghost of Skyhold, doomed for a certain period of time to walk the earth at night, while during the day I'm trapped in the fires of purgatory until I've done… No, wait. That's a different sort of story. This story. My story is about to end.

I headed toward the exit. My old room is two floors above me. I shouldn't have any trouble with a few stairs. The craving is beginning to torment me again, reminding me I can't live without it. That I'm nothing without it. Winded and coughing, I drop to a convenient chair on the landing. When the coughing subsided, I remember a bottle I'd hidden in my desk.

Where are my attendants? If they would just enter the room, they could tell me the news and help me back to bed. However, they would never retrieve that hidden bottle for me. I made the decision to sneak into my room and retrieve my medicine. The stairs seem steep and dark. Indeed, I cannot see the top through the fog that permeates the entire castle. I wondered how it appeared from outside?

Halfway up the first staircase I must stop and sit down. Nausea churns and my vision swims. Just a few more steps I tell myself and I must hurry. My attendants will come looking for me soon. Dizziness stops me again before I gather the strength to push open the door to the second series of steps.

Only the burning desire for more keeps me moving, one, two, three steps and I must sit down again. A window above my head, not exactly a window, more an open area of tumbled stones. The sound from the yard rises to my ears now. My curiosity piqued, I pushed myself to my shaky legs and by holding on to the old wooden balustrade I drag myself the final yards to the last door to my old room.

It's hidden on the underside of my desk fastened and hidden with a trick of magic to keep it that way.

A flock of Liliana's crows shot toward the ceiling, and I stumbled. Why hadn't she taken those damn things with her? Bird droppings all over the floor and I remember the smell. A library shouldn't smell like bird shit, no matter how useful the creatures. There would be others to worry about that now. It no longer mattered to me. All that mattered was getting to my quarters and my medicine.

My hair fell from the leather tie and swung over my face. Impatience growing, I pushed the dirty tangle away from my face. Just a few more steps to stop the pain and end the darkness. I'm no longer afraid. I'm ready to face whatever awaits me on the other side. The last few steps are easy as my body is lightened by the aspect of the bottle waiting for me. I'll drink it all. Stop the pain. Stop the endless disappointment.

Finally, the last set of stairs and I can see the mullioned windows from here. I remember a time when I took these steps two at a time. Those days are gone, and so am I. The windows beckon and I slip outside to the balcony. The dark miasma almost completely obscures the deep valley and distant mountains. The drugs for the moment forgotten, I move across the icy balcony.

_I hope this ends soon._

How simple, how easy to join the darkness. Two hands on the railing. I lift myself up as if I weigh nothing. Floating like the fog that surrounds this old castle. Soon the pain will stop, the grief will end.

I'm so sorry, Dorian.

Freedom.

Strong arms around my waist stop me from taking flight.

"Let go of me!" My frustration and response end in a coughing attack. I'm lifted and carried inside. The settee accepts my weight by releasing a cloud of dust into the air.

"Fasta Vass! This is filthy."

I hear a hiss of breath, and trembling fingers smooth the hair back from my face. Damn, I think, they've finally caught me. I'd succeeded at nothing. So I struggle against the arms trying to hold me back from my goal.

"Let me go! Do you know who I am? Get out..." The coughing begins again, and I close my eyes and wait for it to pass.

Then to my surprise I'm raised and tilted against a body. Strong arms wrap themselves around me. The chest now pressed so close to mine expands erratically, and the breath against my neck is shaky. A hand pulls a blanket over my shoulders.

"Please let me go… I must… I have to end this."

"I'm sorry, Amatus. That won't be possible. You will live. Yes? I must insist. Now, drink this like a good Inquisitor."

"To the Void with that! Out! Now!" My effort at knocking the hand away is thwarted by my hands pinned between us. The familiar voice just a trick of the hopeless desolation swirling in my mind.

"Open your eyes…"

"Go away," I let my head fall back. "No one calls me Amatus. He's gone. I lost him."

Gentle long-fingered hands smooth my cheeks and card through my dirty hair. The blanket warms my back and arms, as do the hands. It seems like forever since I've felt warm.

"Open your eyes, Garrett."

Through bleary weak eyes, I blink to focus on the familiar visage of the mage's handsome face. Yes, handsome, but different. Thinner. His eyes red and puffy. I try to touch him, to ensure this is real, but I'm too weak.

"Drink," he tilted the small bottle against my lips. It's tinted a deep purple with silver filigree work around the base. Then, with my eyes on his I swallowed the liquid. It went down my throat thick and cold like an icy fire. I choked, and he pulled me against him with his hand gently sweeping down my throat and neck.

"Rest now."

"No, no, I want to go. I decided… you can't stop me."

"But, I have stopped you. Yes?"

In spite of the frustration at my thwarted intentions my vision is clearing and my breathing less labored. I venture a deep breath pulling air into my lungs as if it were something new. When I feel able to lift my head, I'm looking into the eyes of a man I'd despaired of seeing again.

"Dorian." He's really here. The name. The embrace. The brown eyes peering at me so intently.

"How do you feel?"

"Better, I think. What did you give me?"

He shoved his fingers into my hair and tilted my head back. "Later. I'll explain everything to you later. I hear people coming up the stairs."

And here, finally, here are my attendants. With their faces appropriately shamed-face at finding me here. I assume they'd rushed out to discover the identity of our new visitor. They stand silently with their hands clasped in front of him, until Dorian takes charge.

"You, two! Get this room cleaned. Now. Fresh bedding and fresh clothes. Then one of you brings broth from the kitchen. I want him bathed. This mess is disgusting. How could you allow him to sink so low?

"My Lord Pavus… he wouldn't allow us."

"Quiet!" He spat. "Maker take your excuses. Get it done."

An hour later he sits next to my freshly made bed with his head bowed over our clasped hands. As the sickness leaves me, my skin begins to enjoy the feel of the fresh linen, my clean hair combed back from my face and I respond not to the darkness's call, but to the hand holding mine.

I noticed he also washed and changed. He's wearing a simple robe of black wool over a red gown. His hair is longer and there's a beard. I'm not sure if it makes him look older or younger. There's also, I notice, as my eyes focus a hint of gray at his temples. Dorian, what happened to you? My fingers curled into his.

"I'm very annoyed with you, Dorian Pavus."

He doesn't or won't look at me. "I found the bottle and tossed it over the balcony." He said to his hands. "There's no more of it left in the castle I assure you."

"How do you know. I could have hidden it—"

"—Because I'm a bloody mage, that's how. Garrett if I hadn't been here, in this room… to stop you."

And now it's my turn to look away. "I had despaired of life. The healers washed their hands of me weeks ago. Every day, every sleepless night drew me deeper into a pit I no longer had the strength to fight. The illness took control of me, only the medicine kept some of the pain away and let me sleep a few hours…"

He turned on me, rising from the chair and throwing my hand down on the coverlet.

"That medicine, as you call it, my dearest Inquisitor, was poison! He poisoned you. Then paid someone in Skyhold to make sure you always had just enough. Maker's breath… Red Lyrium… just enough… That day in Redcliff when you shook hands with him."

"If he couldn't control you. He could at least remove me from your life."

"You catch on quick."

He paced the room with the same grace I remember that first day in Redcliff. Something has changed him, the sardonic Dorian is gone or is he simply exhausted. I moved over on the bed to make room for him.

"Dorian, come here," I said softly. When he looked up, our eyes caught and held. We both have the same shine of tears in our eyes and I realized we both have grieving to do. And there's something else, something pulling at him with the same strength the darkness held over me. It's there in roundness of his shoulders, the grief in his eyes, the easy way of his is gone.

Slipping out of the bed, I'm surprised to find my legs stronger, more like they could hold me up instead of allowing me to fall. He's standing by the windows staring out at the fog. The floor isn't icy, and my body, naked under the linen gown isn't prickled with gooseflesh. Each step I take toward him is surer, stronger. When I reach him, I slip under his right arm and slide my arms around his waist.

"Tell me."

"My father meant to kill you. What more can I tell you! Isn't that enough?"

He tried to move away, but my arms held him against the window frame.

"Tell me."

"I tried to love him, Amatus. Tried to be the son he wanted. The blood magic ritual… that day in Redcliff and the horrible things he said to you."

He's sinking into my embrace and I thank the Maker for my renewed strength. Over his shoulder I see rays of of color as the sun finds its way out of the fog and peaks over the top of the mountains. A bird calls, rising on the current. A second bird joined the first and they rise together almost wing tip to wing tip.

"Andraste… Garrett, forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive…"

"Let me say this before I lose my courage. I did it with my own hands. He said, it was good that I left Skyhold then I wouldn't have to watch the sodomite die. That was the moment I ran out of ways to forgive him. The evil he'd done. The sneer on his face. I had to make it go away and so I did." His voice shattered over the words. "I-I murdered my own father."

He breaks down in my arms and I hold him close while he releases the guilt against my shoulder. The birds, I identify them by their sound, are raptors or Skyhold Eagles as the locals call them. They call to one another again as they play on the air currents. Chasing each other, twirling and diving together as if they're dancing.

"Dorian, look." I lifted his head and turned him toward the glorious sunset taking shape in front of us. The deathly fog retreats dissipating into colors of yellow, red and orange. When the colors turn to indigo, fingers touch my lips, followed by the kiss I'd lost hope of experiencing again. Dorian. My Dorian is home again and breathing life back into me.

When the room has wrapped us in the quiet darkness and sweet solitude only lovers know, I take his hand.

"Come to bed, Mage." I say and he tilts his head with that smile I remember, the smile I dreamed about and yearned for.

Naked, we follow each other under the blankets and weave our arms and legs together. We don't needs words, we never really did. But as we drift off into the only real sleep either of us has known in months, he whispers against my ear, "You are my love, Amatus."

"Yes," I replied rubbing my cheek against the dark beard on his chin and settling my head on his shoulder. "Always."

* * *

 "...doomed for a certain period of time to walk the earth at night, while during the day I'm trapped in the fires of purgatory until I've done…" Shakespeare, _Hamlet_


	6. Take these broken wings and learn to fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Sexy Stuff. Driving to work on Friday I heard this song by Mr. Mister and thought oh YEAH, there must be at least one more chapter and probably an epilogue. Thanks again to my readers and for the lovely reviews. You're awesome.

* * *

 "Baby, I think tonight

We can take what was wrong and make it right

Baby, it's all I know that you're half of the flesh

And blood that makes me whole, I need you so.

So take these broken wings

And learn to fly again, learn to live so free

When we hear the voices sing

The book of love will open up

And let us in."

—Mr. Mister, Broken Wings

* * *

 

**Dorian**

The practice yard is full of wildflowers and darting insects. Bees compete with the butterflies, and the birds are so busy they must think it's spring. It's late summer, but the cloud that hung over Skyhold lifted with Garrett's revival, and now the whole mountain seems as if it's making up for lost time. I breathe in a lungful of fresh mountain air and return my gaze to Garrett as he completes a complicated routine with his staff. Then I hear a broken shout and find Garrett on his ass with his mage's staff spinning away with a short burst of magic spurting harmlessly from the tip.

"Amatus?"

I peered down at him and enjoyed watching the blush that stains his cheeks and neck. He's shirtless under the warm sun, and his chest heaved with exertion. We work out here in the yard almost every day. The exercise has put muscle on both of us, and as I gaze down at him, every part of me aches at the strapping beauty laid out before me on the ground. Being together again, living in Skyhold with all its majesty much of the darkness has left us both. But there is still hesitation in his eyes. As if he's not sure how to trust the body that once snapped to his will. For all the late night talks, exercise, spending our nights together and ready affection we have yet to resume physical relations. Do I yearn for that? Of course. Could I force the issue? Possibly. But I am willing to wait. Just to remind him of what once was, I tug him up and pull him just hard enough that he bumps into me.

And there it is! The old look of passion flashes across his eyes followed by surprise and uncertainty. He sucks in a breath and exhales my name so gently it's like a caress across my cheek. _Yes, touch me. I'm here._ My knees go soft, and my body responds, but I managed to stay very still under his steady look, and I'm rewarded with a tentative hand on my chest.

His gaze shifts away from me to his hand as he spreads his fingers over the opening of my shirt. The movement of his hands stops over my heart where it pounds against his hand. He glances at me as if to confirm. Maker's breath! If the man needs reassurance, he needs only to look a little lower.

With a tentative grip, he slides his fingers up my neck to my cheek. I'm so far gone I feel my eyes close, and I lean against his hand. _I'm here, Aamatus. Right here. Waiting for you._

"I love you, Dorian. That has never changed."

"Yes," I smile at him with the look I know he loves. "I've been aware of that fact for quite some time." While I speak, I move closer to him so that our bodies touch from chest to thigh. He cannot mistake my desire for him pulsing insistently against his belly. A quick glance around the yard reveals we are entirely alone. The healthy sweat gleaming on his body intoxicates me, and I'm running out of reasons to keep my hands off him.

Although we've been together for two months now and spent every night together. We've shared only a chaste kiss good night and slept in each other's arms. This is different.

"I-I don't want you to go to someone else."

"And you worry I might?" I took him by the shoulders and gave him a shake. "Once I wouldn't have given it a second thought. But you already know about Tevinter relationships. It's you, my Inquisitor who taught me about the steadfast loyalty of genuine love. Garrett, there is no one else. Only you." I took his hand and placed a kiss in his palm. "Several men and a woman did approach me while I was home... Tevinter. I couldn't respond. Didn't want to."

Garrett shifted against me, and I almost lost my hard-won composure when his erection rubbed against mine. I wanted to be naked with him again, skin to skin, nothing hidden. He taught me that, and he's undoing it all.

"You came back to undo what your father began."

His self-doubt… By the walls of the golden city! Was this man a desire demon incarnate? Enough of this.

"I didn't come back for your gratitude!. I came back because I belong at your side."

He shoved me away and removed an oak quarterstaff from the weapons rack and tossed another to me.

I raised my hands palm up. "Garrett, this isn't necessary."

I barely got my staff up to in time to block his strike. He put all his strength behind it or perhaps it's more accurate to call it his rage. Aroused beyond measure and my head fuzzy with thoughts of making love to him it's a struggle to raise my arms to block another blow. In an instant, we went from a romantic moment to fighting. It took me a long second to get the blood flowing again, and I took a deep breath to center myself. Then he utterly confounds me.

"Why are you here, Lord Pavus? You should be a Magister, rubbing shoulders with the aristocracy of the Imperium."

Now where had that come from? He came at me again spinning the quarterstaff intending to knock my legs from under me. That time I blocked the attack and set him back a pace with a strike of my own.

"I want no part of that life, Inquisitor. Tried it. Didn't like it." While I spoke, he raised his arms and swung at me from his upper guard. I parried just in time by lowering one end of my staff into the ground to block him. The force stung my hands and rattled my arms.

Then it dawns on me, and I use my staff to pin him against a nearby wall. And maybe I used a little magic to make sure I had his attention. "I know what's wrong, Inquisitor. You think I'm just making due. Choosing second best so to speak. Am I correct, Amatus?"

"You killed your father."

 _Ah, yes. Thank you for reminding me, love of my life._ I pushed against the staff until he began to struggle.

"Which leads you to believe what? That I'm hiding out here? Like a fugitive?"

Anger flashed in his eyes. "It's not your fault." I felt a bolt of energy boil out of his hands and knock me back into the grass. Quickly rolling to my feet, I let my anger surface.

"Do you want to go down this road with me, Inquisitor? I am an Altus mage. Born, bred and trained in the Tevinter Imperium. The best of everything."

"And what is that supposed to mean. That you're better than me!"

"Evidently."

His quarterstaff spun toward me, but I dodged it quickly.

"I won't thank you for saving my life!"

"I didn't ask for your thanks or your undying gratitude!" That was the wrong word. I watched his face go white. He picked up his shirt and walked away.

I retrieved our quarterstaffs and put them away. He entered the Main Hall, and the door slammed behind him. To the empty yard, I whispered with a sadness bordering on despair, "Don't you understand, that I would have followed you over the edge of that balcony?"

Death! I pounded my fist against the stone wall. Death dogged our steps through along the Treacherous Coast, across the Hissing Wastes, through the horrors of the Fade, the endless parade of demons and that bloody Oasis. We saved an empress, took death by the throat and beat Corypheus head on, and we won.

And that night at Halamshiral when we danced together. The last of our defenses fell. I let him see me, the real me no one else knew. As the music played on we sank into each other, melting together. We would have that again, dammit! There's nothing to stop us from finding happiness. But what else can I do to remove that doubt from his eyes? I'm just not sure, but I will not give up hope.

So deep in thought I entered our bathing chamber without knocking to find a very naked Garrett soaking in the large tub. He must be sleeping because he doesn't open his eyes to see who intrudes on his privacy. Then I watch his hand slowly move over his chest and down between his legs. And when he strokes himself I notice two things. His frown of disappointment and the lack of his arousal. Well, there are two things, for which I offer no humility, my magical abilities, and my skills as a lover. Although I am a rather handsome sort and well educated.

My clothes fall to the floor, and I slip into the tub quietly to avoid spooking him.

How to start? Where to start? With soap in hand, I sink and gently grasp one of his feet. He doesn't open his eyes when I begin to massage his leg, and I take that as a good sign. Slowly rubbing my fingers up the souls of his feet I push my thumbs along the tendons, spreading his toes and rotating his ankle. His other foot floats up to my hands, but I don't say a word, merely repeat the same application to his left foot. I once brought a man to orgasm… never mind. Different time, the wrong story.

When I finished with his feet, I watched his hands float toward me. When I began to message, I heard him sigh. Ah, so it's his hands. Slowly, finger by finger I moved his joints, taking away the stiffness and pain that the Anchor left behind.

He still hadn't opened his eyes when I finished with his hands and wondered if I should move up his arms when he grabs me by the forearms and pulls me against him. I can hardly contain my sigh of relief when I settle over him with my legs astride his lap. With his hands on my back holding me still, he leans forward and kisses the center of my chest over my heart.

I'm trembling like a damn virgin while he moves his mouth over my chest. Warms lips on my right nipple made me gasp. Then he sucked hard, and my head fell back.

"Help me?" He murmured against my skin.

Finally, the words I'd been waiting for. The vibration of the hoped for words went through me like fire, igniting me. At last, I could show him, renew his passion and help him regain some confidence. With my hands on either side of his face I tilted his head up, "Out in the yard you said I love you. Will you let me show you how much I love you, Inquisitor?"

A solitary tear and his eyes closing was my answer. Anger at what my father had done to this beautiful man surfaced. Pushing them away, I reminded myself that I'd already killed him once. "Garret," my lips grazing his. "We will heal together. Yes? Starting tonight."

And now I had his entire body naked and at my disposal. Soapy hands traced circles over his chest and arms. When I heard his breath catch, I allowed my hands to roam lower. His corded thighs relaxed at my touch. My hands slid down over his legs to massage his calves and used the movement pushed his legs apart.

He shifted on the narrow bench and reached for me. A very good sign.

Denying him the request to touch me, I enjoyed watching the frown and with gentle hands I flipped him over, so his knees were on the bottom of the tub and his hands on the rim. I know what this man likes. With soapy hands I rubbed his neck and shoulders, then slowly began to drag my nails down his back. First, it's the shifting muscles. I let my palms cup the cheeks of his bottom. Then before he could protest, I slid back up to his shoulders.

When he begins to relax, I'm rewarded with the second sign I'm waiting so patiently to for, and it comes when his breathing becomes quick and shaky. Told you I was good.

Around his torso, my hands glide with nails scratching over his nipples and down over the fronts of his thighs. His hips buck and twitch. Over his body, I message him again, taking my time over his shoulders and spine. My hands reach his waist, and he sucked in a breath. As a reward, I kissed the back of his neck. Two more times I let my hands follow this path until the fourth time he grabbed my hand to cup his tight sack hanging below his beautiful cock. I didn't touch it; I don't want to know if it's hard or soft. He will show me that. When he doesn't let go of my hand, I let him guide me from his balls to his shaft and oh, Maker yes, it's rock hard.

Together we stroke him and then comes a groan of desire. I smiled against his back and stretched my fingers over him renewing my grip. It's not until I know he's distracted with the growing need to find release, I take myself in hand and hold my twitching cock against his muscular bottom. And as all the blood leaves my brain for the second time in as many hours I remember that day in Redcliff when he came striding into the castle hall. His confident step, his long muscular legs clad in fabric that did nothing to hide his, shall we call them attributes.

Beautiful, muscular, brave and apparently indifferent to all of it, he took my breath away with his sensuality. Occasionally one sees mages like him, with their magic coiled inside them like a sex act seeking release. Of course, Garrett is different, as no man I've ever met before. Never flinched at what was thrown his way, simply kept walking forward and we followed him unquestioningly. And perhaps it was this power within him he found again this afternoon when he pressed himself against my hand, angling himself to put the head of my cock against himself… against the small, sweet opening and called out.

"Dorian?"

I didn't ask, are you sure or are you ready. No, that might break the moment. I very quickly soaped myself and held him steady with one hand on his hips and pressed myself against him. With a quick thrust, a movement I didn't expect I'm suddenly inside him. And he doesn't stop pushing until I'm buried.

My last coherent thought was is this is love. This is what it's about. Being patient and taking the time to understand what it takes to give the person you love what they need for happiness, confidence or a good fuck because, Maker's balls he's pushing himself so hard against my hips I've lost control. With my hands on fingers dug into his waist, I watch myself slide out only to disappear inside him again.

It isn't until I sense indecision I reach down to touch him. "Together." And between us we shatter together in a starlight shower of passion.

We stayed locked together until we're both shivering in the chilly bathwater. After we toweled each other down and ran for the warmth of our bed, he reaches for me and pulls me beneath him, kissing me hard and with the passion he's been unable to express.

My answering kiss leaves him no doubt of my feelings and my intentions. I'm home again. Home. The busy days of managing a large castle, the growing number mage's seeking to train. The scholars who come to study in the Skyhold's library. The traveling merchants, the ambassadors, and pilgrims will all be there waiting for us tomorrow.

Tonight is ours.


	7. ...the color of my mind

* * *

"I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind." ― Emily Brontë, _Wuthering Heights_

* * *

 

**The Inquisitor**

Dorian doesn't like me watching him when he's with his students. Naturally, I do it anyway. He scans the battlements occasionally, but he'll never discover my hiding place. I love to watch him move as he demonstrates the different spells and powers. The students love him and pepper him with questions about magic and his adventuring. The girls blush at his smiles of encouragement and the boys seem flustered at his attention. He's not only handsome but charismatic as well. He's also patient and kind. And that's what makes him such a good teacher.

I think it took him by surprise that teaching came so easily to him. I, however, am not a good teacher. I'm much better at keeping the books, monitoring the castle employees and managing the breeding stock. And I make a pretty good Inquisitor, too. If excellent teaching skills came easily to Dorian, it was my ability to lead men and women and make decisions that took me by surprise. That is just one of the many reasons Dorian and I work so well together.

Three years have gone by since we closed the Breach and defeated Corypheus. Skyhold is completely self-supporting. My health is fully restored and my relationship with Dorian is filled with love and companionship. There are days when he smiles at me from across the room, that I think I could not love him more. Then I watch him assist a young mage, learning a new spell and he makes her laugh, clasps his hands over hers as she learns to manage her new mage's staff. He leads her through the steps, then gently, quietly, he releases her and she keeps moving, free and light as magic pours from her staff as she spins through the exercise. Her delighted laughter rings across the yard and she runs to hug Dorian to thank him. Not that he would admit it, but I think our youngest student, Madelaine from Tevinter is one of his favorite pupils. And I wonder not for the first time if Dorian ever thinks of becoming a father.

Today, I watch him finish up his class with growing impatience. I have something hidden in my pocket that I want to show him. But I must wait until he completes the lesson and releases his students for the day. He'll meet me in our quarters before the evening meal as is our habit, where we share a cup of wine and talk about our day before heading down to the main hall. The news contained in this letter is already known to me, I am the Inquisitor after all. But I know he doesn't know, just as I know it will please him.

The wine is poured and I listen to him take the stairs two at a time. He heads straight for me and instead of accepting the cup, he wraps a hand around my cheek and gives me a slow lingering kiss and that smile that always makes my knees go soft.

"I found you out today, Amatus. You'll have to move your hiding place now."

I wrap an arm around his neck, "Come up and try to catch me. If you find me I'll give you a nice reward."

"I may take you up on that. Right now, I want to see the letter which arrived today."

Damn, someone told him. He can't know the contents, so I hand it to him and watch him break open the glob of red wax that is of the Pavus seal and unfold the thick parchment.

 

_My Dearest Son_

_I know you're waiting for this news and I hope you haven't heard it from anyone else…_

 

Dorian glances at me from under his brows and I just smile.

 

_...I took a page from the Inquisition's playbook and allowed no one to tell me no and I pushed those antiquated traditions until they gave. I have you and Garrett to thank for your support and advice._

_But first allow me to reaffirm that you have nothing to feel guilty about. Your actions released us both from the terror of that monster. With Halward gone we may live the life our choosing and follow our dreams. You are where you belong, Dorian, at Garrett's side. Once, a long time ago, your father and I dreamed of the day you would take your place in the Magisterium. As you grew, I saw your big-hearted generosity and kindness, which became so much of a part of who you are. I know how strongly you feel about making changes in the Imperium. I want to make those changes too, Dorian. As time goes on I will rely on your advice and guidance. Although, I have my own ideas and you my beloved son gave me the gift of the freedom to pursue these ambitions. Truthfully, I would never want to see that light which shines so brightly within you extinguished by the rigors and cut throat maneuverings of the Magisterium._

_Allow me to close this letter by inviting you and Garrett to Minrathous for my swearing in ceremony. Please come to congratulate your mother on taking your father's seat to become the very first woman Magister in the Imperium of Tevinter._

_With love, your Mother_

_Magister Aquinea Thalrassian Pavus_

* * *

 

Finis


End file.
